Post by diskelemental on Jul 12, 2015 22:41:03 GMT -7
After leaving Varga’s estate, pouch full of coin, Myka quickly slipped away from the rest of the group, and made her way towards the eastern gate. Less than a block from the gate, Myka ducked into an alley, and spoke a few words, dismissing the illusions which wreathed her form. As the magic fell away, her beautiful dress became rags, threadbare and muddy. Her neat hair grew long and unkempt, and her face was streaked with mud, sweat, and tears. After ensuring the illusions had all faded, Myka drew the heavy brown cloak close, and emerged into the street.
She walked alone through the streets of the eastern slums, Pactmaker said nothing, letting the weight of its disappointment, and the dread of what was to come, sink in. A drunk jeered at her as she approached, Myka ignored him and continued on her way. As she passed she felt something wet strike the back of her cloak, as the man wheezed in laughter. Myka’s fists clenched in anger, but she continued walking. “You dessserved it.” The serpent whispered, breaking the silence.
It was dark by the time she reached a filthy shack on the edge of the slums. Myka fumbled with the latch in the dim light, before opening the door; to reveal a single room, with a dirty cot in the corner, and a rickety wooden table in the center. She entered, and carefully locked and barred the door behind her, before collapsing on the cot. For a moment, she fell into a deep asleep, relieved.
A harsh rasping void pulled her back to reality, “you don’t get to sssleep, you have failed usss.” Myka slowly drew herself up, to face the serpent. It continued, tongue flicking in and out, “you let them take what wasss rightfully oursss.”
“I-I tried to stop her, she wouldn’t listen, I-I got the merchant to pay us more and some of the extra, isn’t that enou—,” Myka stammered.
As she spoke, the serpent hissed menacingly and barred its fangs, mere inches from her face. “NO. It’sss never enough, you let them take what wasss oursss, what we earned. You let them take it, and didn’t even try to stop them.”
“I tried. She wouldn’t listen, what else was I supposed to do?” The questions hung in the air for a moment, the serpent cocked its head and waited, staring at her with cold eyes. Myka grew a bit pale, “I’m not killing a Paladin over a handful of coin.”
The serpent drew in close, and began to wrap itself around her neck. Myka flinched as she felt the unnaturally cold scales touch her exposed flesh. It continued to encircle her neck, growing tighter and tighter, she wanted to cry, to scream, but the sounds stuck in her throat. Finally, in an almost imperceptible voice, the creature spoke, “and thatsss why you’ll never fix it. You’re weak and selfisssh. You lack the desssire to fix the damage you’ve done, to restore the life you threw away.” Myka blinked back tears, as the creature unwound itself, and returned to the floor. “As punissshment for your failure, we will perform another sacrifice.”
Myka’s eyes grew wide with fear, and her voice cracked, “please don’t I-I’m still weak from the last one. H-have mercy.”
The serpent continued to slither towards the table.
Myka sobbed, and began to remove her blouse, revealing dozens of scars on her arms, chest, and back. She slowly rose to her feet, and walked towards the center of the room. A small silver bowl, and a dagger carved from obsidian, covered in runes, lay next to each other on the table. Myka sank into the chair and clutched the knife with trembling hands. She gently rested her arm on the lip of the bowl, and placed the blade up against the one of the oldest scars. Myka closed her eyes and braced for the pain.
She walked alone through the streets of the eastern slums, Pactmaker said nothing, letting the weight of its disappointment, and the dread of what was to come, sink in. A drunk jeered at her as she approached, Myka ignored him and continued on her way. As she passed she felt something wet strike the back of her cloak, as the man wheezed in laughter. Myka’s fists clenched in anger, but she continued walking. “You dessserved it.” The serpent whispered, breaking the silence.
It was dark by the time she reached a filthy shack on the edge of the slums. Myka fumbled with the latch in the dim light, before opening the door; to reveal a single room, with a dirty cot in the corner, and a rickety wooden table in the center. She entered, and carefully locked and barred the door behind her, before collapsing on the cot. For a moment, she fell into a deep asleep, relieved.
A harsh rasping void pulled her back to reality, “you don’t get to sssleep, you have failed usss.” Myka slowly drew herself up, to face the serpent. It continued, tongue flicking in and out, “you let them take what wasss rightfully oursss.”
“I-I tried to stop her, she wouldn’t listen, I-I got the merchant to pay us more and some of the extra, isn’t that enou—,” Myka stammered.
As she spoke, the serpent hissed menacingly and barred its fangs, mere inches from her face. “NO. It’sss never enough, you let them take what wasss oursss, what we earned. You let them take it, and didn’t even try to stop them.”
“I tried. She wouldn’t listen, what else was I supposed to do?” The questions hung in the air for a moment, the serpent cocked its head and waited, staring at her with cold eyes. Myka grew a bit pale, “I’m not killing a Paladin over a handful of coin.”
The serpent drew in close, and began to wrap itself around her neck. Myka flinched as she felt the unnaturally cold scales touch her exposed flesh. It continued to encircle her neck, growing tighter and tighter, she wanted to cry, to scream, but the sounds stuck in her throat. Finally, in an almost imperceptible voice, the creature spoke, “and thatsss why you’ll never fix it. You’re weak and selfisssh. You lack the desssire to fix the damage you’ve done, to restore the life you threw away.” Myka blinked back tears, as the creature unwound itself, and returned to the floor. “As punissshment for your failure, we will perform another sacrifice.”
Myka’s eyes grew wide with fear, and her voice cracked, “please don’t I-I’m still weak from the last one. H-have mercy.”
The serpent continued to slither towards the table.
Myka sobbed, and began to remove her blouse, revealing dozens of scars on her arms, chest, and back. She slowly rose to her feet, and walked towards the center of the room. A small silver bowl, and a dagger carved from obsidian, covered in runes, lay next to each other on the table. Myka sank into the chair and clutched the knife with trembling hands. She gently rested her arm on the lip of the bowl, and placed the blade up against the one of the oldest scars. Myka closed her eyes and braced for the pain.